


Birthday Girl

by rose_griffes



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Backstory, Childhood Trauma, Gen, selective mutism, vague references to historical atrocities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_griffes/pseuds/rose_griffes
Summary: A series of vignettes focusing on Gaby's birthdays as a child in Germany





	1. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't expect that a long wait in an airplane would result in my first solo fanfic in almost five years, and my first time writing for a film instead of a TV series, but here we are.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Many thanks to [JordanUlysses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/pseuds/JordanUlysses) for reading over this, and also for information about the interesting split in what people call their parents in Germany. West Germans generally use Mama and Papa. Some easterners use Mutti (shortened from Mutter) and Vati or Vater. (That's pronounced with an f; sounds almost like the English word for father, just with a hard t.)

**13 September 1943 - near Coburg, Germany**  
Mutti was right about the dress. It scratches too much for Gaby to sleep, even when she doesn’t move around. 

And she’s too excited not to move around right now.

The other girls have been quiet for so long. Gaby looks around again; no one moves. Their dresses hang from a hook on the back of the door, straight across the room from her bed. Luise’s dress is closest to the door, so she’ll have to move the other dresses out of the way when she gets there. 

Gaby puts one foot on the floor; it creaks, but only a little. She takes a few more steps and then stops, turning all the way around to check the other girls. Still no movement.

She’s almost to the dresses when the door starts to open. Gaby whirls and runs for her bed, where she pulls the blanket over her head. 

The floor creaks again, louder this time, and then she hears a sigh and knows it’s her Mutti. Gaby pulls the blanket down again, uncovering her face.

“Gaby, what were you doing out of bed?” Mutti sits on the edge of Gaby’s bed and strokes her arm.

“I wanted to touch the sparkly part on Luise’s dress.” 

Mutti makes a soft humming noise for a moment. “Are you ready to change out of your dress into your nightgown?”

Gaby still wants to argue about it, but the scratchy part of the dress rubs against her legs again. “Yes, Mutti.” 

Mutti taps Gaby’s hands and says, “Stand up, little dancer.” She pulls the blanket back the rest of the way and Gaby stands on the bed, turning around so that Mutti can undo the hooks. Before Gaby can protest, the ballet dress gets whisked away and her nightgown is already over her head. 

“I wanted my blue gown,” Gaby says, voice muffled by the material. She can tell by the feel of the fabric that it’s the yellow one handed down from Helena. 

Mutti sighs and says, “This one will have to do for tonight.” She uses the tone that Gaby knows not to argue with--at least not when she’s been caught out of bed after bedtime. Gaby helps her straighten out the gown and then lies down on the bed again. It does feel better without the scratchy skirt of the ballet dress. 

“What time is it?” she asks. 

“It’s one in the morning, Gabylein, and you need to go to sleep.” Mutti kisses her forehead and starts to stand up. 

Gaby doesn’t want Mutti to go, and she suddenly realizes what one in the morning means. “So it’s my birthday now.” 

Mutti stops and sits on the edge of the bed again. “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Sonnenschein.” 

Gaby bursts into a smile at the acknowledgment. It’s finally here, after so much waiting. “Danke schön, Mutti.” She wriggles a bit in the bed--easier to do now that she’s not wearing the scratchy dress. The next words pop out unplanned from the excitement. “I’m five!” 

“Shh, you’ll wake your cousins,” Mutti says, and scoots a bit closer. 

“ _Second_ cousins,” says Gaby. She knows all about that now, after months at Granny Helen's house near Coburg. Granny Helen is Mutti's grandmother, and her house is full of cousins, but not _real_ cousins. Uncle Rudi doesn’t have any children, and Aunt Karoline's baby hasn’t come yet. 

“Is Vater coming for my birthday?” Gaby has held onto the question for days now; here in the dark, with no one else awake, it feels safe to ask. 

Mutti doesn’t say anything for a moment. “He would want to be here. But he has very important work to do. He can’t leave just whenever.” 

_But it’s my birthday_ , thinks Gaby. _It’s not just whenever._ She doesn’t say it, because Mutti is already sad that Vater isn’t here. 

Mutti turns and lies down next to Gaby on the bed, which pulls the blanket tight over Gaby’s chest. She doesn’t complain, though; usually Mutti doesn’t reward Gaby when she’s caught out of bed in the middle of the night. 

"You did such a good job at the dance recital, Liebling. I'm sure Vater would be proud, too." Mutti's words warm Gaby's ear, and she traces Gaby's arm through the blanket to curl her hand over Gaby's hand. "I'll write him a letter to tell him all about it, and you can sign it too." 

Gaby can write her name by herself now, her full name. She practiced for days, carefully copying the letters Mutti wrote for her. She can read a little bit, too; last year she couldn't read anything. Mutti lets her read to her--the old books from when Mutti was little. Granny Helen was born in England and she has a big library of her own, with books in German, English, and other languages Gaby doesn't know yet.

The thrill of the recital slowly fizzles from a bubbling excitement to a tired flatness. Gaby wishes Vater had been there; she wishes that Uncle Rudi had **not** been there. 

"I want to dance by myself next time," she says; her words sound slurred and she pushes against that sleepy feeling. 

"Maybe when you're bigger," says Mutti, even though Gaby is already big. She's five now. Then Mutti says, "I don't know what we're going to do next to keep you children occupied." 

Mutti taught the dances for the recital; even the bigger girls had to listen to her then. Gaby thinks about being big and teaching other girls to dance, and making them do whatever she says. 

“We can do another dance recital,” says Gaby. 

“Mmm. Maybe something for all of the children, not just the girls.” 

“The boys can dance too.” 

"They can," Mutti says. "But it was hard enough making costumes for all you girls. I think we used all of the old gowns to make your dresses."

"We can play Topfschlagen." Gaby tries not to yawn as she says it; Mutti will leave if she knows Gaby feels sleepy. 

"We don't have any chocolates to hide for the game, Liebling." They used to have chocolates all the time. Granny Helen kept chocolate hidden in her bedroom, and she would tell Gaby to bring her the box and then Gaby got to choose one as well if she talked in English instead of slipping into the mixture of German and English that her second cousins spoke. But that hasn't happened in a long time.

Gaby closes her eyes for a moment, and maybe it's a moment too long because Mutti starts to get up again. Casting about quickly for something to keep Mutti there, Gaby says, "Why did Uncle Rudi have to come?" 

She didn’t mean for those words to tumble out, but now the question hangs there. Mutti makes a humming noise again, soft and unhappy. "Uncle Rudi will only be here another day or two." She shifts her weight back to the bed again, takes a breath, but then says nothing, just combs her fingers through Gaby's hair. 

"Liebling, try not to show Uncle Rudi you're afraid of him. It will be better that way.”

Gaby remembers the feeling of her mother's fingers drawing lines across her scalp, the heaviness of her eyelids as she tries to blink herself awake again, the blanket stretched tight across her chest... 

It's only later that she'll think about what her mother didn't say. Mutti never said not to be afraid of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evacuations of children from areas affected by wartime strife weren't as widespread in Germany as they were in the British Isles. As bombings on German soil increased, so did the efforts to relocate children to less-dangerous areas. Leaving wasn't mandatory, and the ages of children evacuated varied at different stages of the war. Children who left stayed in large group homes or with host families. Children with family connections in areas deemed safe (initially just Prussia, Saxony, and Bavaria, although that eventually included places like conquered Lithuania, etc.) were allowed to travel to those areas.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I chose Coburg, Germany, as a home for Gaby's maternal relatives because of the connections to English royalty. Queen Victoria and her German-born husband (and first cousin) Albert, prince of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, had nine children. Those children married into royalty across Europe. The British royal family was called the house of Saxe-Coburg until World War I, when the name was changed to Windsor. 
> 
> I wanted a reason for Gaby's excellent English; having bilingual relatives with a vague connection to royalty fulfills that, and connects to Uncle Rudi's comments about their aristocratic lineage.


	2. Six Candles (and one for luck)

**13 September 1944 - Berlin**  
Mutti found the candle wreath just in time; Vater was frowning and saying to _just put the damn candles on the cake_ , and then Mutti yelled back at him to stop cursing, _please_ , and then she said, _Oh!_ and pulled the flat wooden wreath out of the cabinet. 

Gaby sits quietly at the table. She traces the embroidery on the tablecloth that Mutti ironed earlier, _for your special day, Liebling_. The cake that Mutti baked sits in the center of the table. It's smaller than any birthday cake she can remember; smaller than the cake in the photos from when she was a baby. 

Mutti places six candles in a circle on the wreath, and then one in the middle. "For good luck," says Mutti, and the candlelight gleams, a reflection of birthdays past. 

From the pictures Gaby knows that she ate her first birthday cake in the high chair that's now in storage downstairs. The photos from her second birthday show her crying in Mutti's lap, with Vater and Uncle Rudi nearby. 

She had three birthdays in Coburg. Now they're in Berlin again--Gaby doesn’t know for how long--and Vater is there too.

"Six years old," says Vater. Mutti hums in approval, and Vater takes Gaby's hand and smiles at her. The clock ticks on the wall, counting seconds while Gaby waits for Vater to say something else. 

"Well, let's try this cake, then." 

"We have to sing first," Gaby blurts out, shocked that he would forget about it. 

Mutti starts the song and Vater joins in. After they finish, Vater lets go of her hand and picks up the knife. Gaby gets the biggest piece of cake. It doesn't taste like what she remembers, but she tells Mutti that it's good, _sehr gut_. 

Mutti doesn't make her do any chores that night, but she still has to go to bed on time. After Mutti tucks her into bed, the sound of Vater's favorite record filters through the partly-closed door to her bedroom. 

Mutti washes the dishes; the silverware clinks against the plates, the music plays, and Vater walks back and forth, back and forth in the living room. 

Gaby imagines a row of dancers moving to the rhythm of the music and her father's steps. The ballerinas march in time and Gaby wears a sparkly dress and spins in the middle and then Vater yells something and Mutti yells back and the dancers in her head disappear. 

She doesn't sit up; Mutti always seems to know when Gaby is planning to get out of bed. Vater is saying something about his work that Gaby doesn't understand and then Mutti hisses quick words at him and he stops talking. Her light footsteps make a fast clicking noise and Gaby closes her eyes as her bedroom door creaks. 

Mutti steps back into the living room and starts talking again, but this time she's speaking English. Gaby catches words and phrases, but it's not enough. 

Their voices raise and lower in waves: Vater's roar, then self-conscious quiet, then a steady increase in volume again. The words Gaby understands make her feel like she's trying to tune the radio: static, then a flurry of words, then static again. _Papers... not here… soldiers..._

Their voices drop again and then Gaby's mother says clearly, " _Nein_. Don't talk to Rudi about this. Ever." 

Gaby waits for them to talk again, but a wave of sleep pulls her under instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much like families in London, some Berliners grew tired of the long separation and brought their children back to the city. People living in Berlin during the war used various shelters during bombing raids. Seventy-plus years later, you can take a tour of them if you visit the city.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I'm working on stories for Gaby at age 7, 10, 13, 23, and 25. Feel free to stop by [my tumblr](http://rose-griffes.tumblr.com/) and throw more ideas at me. Or just come tell me why you love Gaby so we can swoon over her together.


	3. Missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Berlin is taken by the Red Army. 
> 
> Gaby misses her seventh birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to [JordanUlysses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/pseuds/JordanUlysses) for helping to improve this in countless ways.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Tags have been updated to reflect this section. Warning for vague references to historical atrocities and human suffering. If you want more details before reading, skip to the end notes for a summary.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Now with translations if you hover over the new German words! (Look, I coded a thing!)

**Berlin, Spring 1945**  
Her Vater was gone. The ground shook all the time and different soldiers marched through town. The grown-ups said that the soldiers were red and Gaby didn't know why, because they weren't red. 

Mutti held her tight, so tight, and said not to make any noise when the soldiers were close by. 

The first time another child grabbed her scrap of food, Gaby didn't say a word. The soldiers looked at them and laughed, and she stood still, still, still until they left. 

The second time it happened she launched herself at the thief, teeth bared and fingers clawing. She didn't make a sound, but she got her food back.

Grown-ups carried pieces of rubble away from the houses; she darted into the opening and grabbed a piece of food but this time Gaby put it in her mouth right away, almost choking on the dry scraps.

Her dress was dirty and her hands too and Mutti would make her wash them, but Mutti wasn't there, wasn't there. 

Mutti wasn't there and children were crying next to the pieces of broken houses, and the soldiers that weren't red were there and Gaby didn't make a sound when the men were near, because Mutti said not to.

**East Berlin, September 1945**   
"Let's carry this out so we can see better," says Marta. It's too dark to see her face well, but her teeth gleam in a triumphant smile. Gaby says _ja_ and takes the bundle Marta hands to her, gripping it tightly so nothing falls. 

She stays right on Marta's heels as they trace their steps, winding through an alley, over piles of rubble and back to the Schmidts' apartment.

Marta turns to make sure Gaby is inside before closing the door. She sings out, "Look at what we found! Clothes!" 

Marta whirls over to the kitchen table, where she drops her box, and then grabs Gaby's bundle to place it there as well. After that she removes the boys' cap she's wearing and drops it on the table too. Taking out a flowery scarf from a pocket of the boys' trousers she's wearing, she ties it around her short hair as a headwrap, then hops over to Oskar next to look at his foot again. He's sitting on the couch and his bad foot is propped on the rung of a kitchen chair. 

Oskar's eyebrows pinch together but he tells Marta that he's fine. Peter rolls his eyes at that and says, "Vati is a liar." 

Peter is like that. He's twelve, and he thinks he's smarter than everyone. 

Marta glares for a moment at her son, but then shifts direction again, darting back to the table. "We're going to take a look at this pile and see if we have anything that will fit a boy with a big mouth." 

Marta sorts through the clothes, narrating how each item might help them. Her ideas about what is useful make Gaby want to say sarcastic things too, like Peter does. Oskar tries to smile from the couch as they work to distract him from his foot hurting. They set aside a pair of boys' trousers for Gaby, _just in case_ , Marta says. In case they decide Gaby should wear boys' clothes when she goes out, like Marta does. 

The pile of clothes looks small to Gaby; she remembers a closet full of fancy dresses that her mother wore, and the smaller versions of some of them that Gaby had. But Marta seems satisfied. "No more talk of us leaving you here to go to the country," Marta commands Oskar. Her eyes glitter and her mouth closes in a determined line. "As you can see, we'll manage just fine." 

This is an ongoing discussion. Oskar and Marta have the first bedroom and the Müller sisters sleep in the second bedroom, so Peter sleeps on the couch and Gaby's bed is tucked into the corner of the living room; no one can argue in secret in this apartment. 

Peter stays quiet for once. Oskar lets out a breath--not quite a sigh, but it's not an argument either. Marta's cheeks flush red as she nods in temporary victory. 

Gaby thought the box was empty, but Marta pulls out one last thing: an old pair of lederhosen. Even Gaby laughs aloud, startling herself. Faded flowers are embroidered along the drop front, and some mysterious stains dot the outside leg seam, but the leather still looks soft. 

"Someone must have had relatives in Bavaria," says Oskar. 

"Well then," Marta says, "We'll just go for a quick visit to Munich soon and try their Oktoberfest--where there's probably no beer or meat--so that my husband can wear this fine pair of lederhosen." 

Oskar raises his eyebrows. "Show off my good leg?" he asks. 

Marta gives him a half-smile. "Or we'll just have our own party when we have running water again." She starts to say something else, but closes her mouth in a hard line instead. Her cheerful mood from earlier starts to fade like the red from her cheeks. 

Oskar tells her, "We can celebrate the festival of the functioning toilets." The corner of Marta's mouth twitches at the comment. 

"How about the holiday from the holiday from school?" Peter's grin pops out in pride at his comment. Gaby smiles at it too, but quickly stops when Oskar turns his head toward her. 

"Did you go to school in Berlin, Gaby?" Oskar looks away again after asking her the question. 

"What's your birthday, Süße?" Marta asks. Peter grabs the notepad and pencil and hands them to her. 

Gaby writes carefully _13 September 1938_ , and then adds, _My mother taught me._ She hands the paper back to Peter, who shows it to Marta, who claps her hands once and says, "You turned seven last week!" 

Seven. She had a birthday and no one knew about it when it happened. 

Marta clicks her tongue. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have traded that sugar away. We could have had a party." 

Oskar and Peter look at each other, and Oskar huffs out a laugh. 

"What?" asks Marta. No one replies. Gaby has seen this before--Oskar would never do anything to disrupt Marta's good moods. 

Marta pulls the lederhosen out of the box again where she dropped them earlier, and says, "Maybe we can cut these up and make some mittens for Gaby." 

"Not mittens," Oskar rumbles. "This leather isn't waterproof. Good for a pair of work gloves, maybe." He shifts the chair where his foot is propped up. "But I think I have something else for Gaby." 

Marta's eyes get comically big. "What is it?" she cries, saying the words that Gaby won't. 

"Gaby--" Oskar emphasizes her name while he looks directly at Marta, "Will just have to wait until tomorrow, since we didn't know we missed her birthday." 

Marta looks toward Gaby; she nods her head at Marta, who then lets out a loud breath. "Okay, fine." She picks up the box from the table and starts walking to their bedroom. "Peter, would you check with Fräuleins Frieda and Erna to see if they got any bread or flour today?"

Gaby follows Marta into the kitchen. The Schmidts have a tiny kitchen, smaller than any kitchen she's known. It's almost empty; they have enough dishes and pots and pans, even with the Müller sisters staying with them, but there's almost no food. 

Peter pops in and says that the sisters didn't get any bread, and then he tells Marta he's going to visit Diedrich. 

"Don't stay out after dark," Marta says. "And take the back way."

Marta stands still in the center of the kitchen, staring at the cabinets, her hands pressed tightly against her stomach. Her shoulders droop. She doesn't say anything for a long time, so Gaby doesn't either. 

Gaby has seen this before: all of Marta's frantic energy fading to nothing. When Peter leaves, when Oskar is in another room, and there's only Marta and Gaby. Her little shadow, Marta called her once in the first few days after the Schmidts took her to their home.

Taking in a deep breath Marta says, "Well, then--" and her voice cracks a bit. "Why don't I make you a little snack, and save something for Peter too. We don't want either of you getting sick again." 

"Ok," says Gaby. She doesn't know what else to say to Marta, who looks sad and angry even though she's trying not to let Gaby see it. Gaby feels it, too; everyone is hungry, and it's scary almost all of the time, and she can't do anything to make it better.

Gaby sits at the table, kicking the next chair while she eats until Marta tells her to stop. She licks her fingers and uses them to wipe the crumbs from her plate. 

"Maybe an early bedtime," says Marta, who is waiting for Peter to come home.

Gaby says, "I can read you a story." Her Mutti liked it when she read to her. 

"Just to me, and not to Oskar?" Marta doesn't wait for Gaby to confirm it; instead she says, "Sooner or later you'll have to talk around men too, you know." 

Instead of answering Marta, Gaby gets down from the chair and carries her plate over to the sink. 

Marta sighs. Her lip twists a bit and then she tells her, "A story would be lovely, Gaby. Maybe tomorrow night, though."

Gaby changes into the nightgown that the older Müller sister gave her and goes to her bed. Marta is still in the kitchen. Oskar snores in their bedroom. The Müllers talk in the other bedroom, voices soft and anxious. 

Peter comes home and Marta shushes him so that he won't wake Gaby, but she's still not asleep. Peter lies down on the sofa and whispers to her, "Gute Nacht, Spinnchen." 

Gaby snorts at that and turns over, waiting for sleep.

She's seven now. Last year she had cake, and seven candles. A mother, a father. 

She's seven and there's no school and instead she helps Marta and Peter carry pails of water to the apartment and they share every scrap of food they can find. 

She's seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contents: Gaby loses both parents in unspecified ways. The Russian Red Army enters Berlin. Gaby fights other children for food. She stops speaking around adult men. Later Gaby has been taken in by a local family; the wife is wearing men's clothes for her own safety in post-war Berlin. All characters are chronically hungry.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Unlike many stories told in mainstream media, selective mutism rarely includes complete silence. Instead people may be silent in specific situations, such as a child who talks to her family but not at school. Anxiety is a big element; Gaby's U.N.C.L.E. dossier in the film credits lists mild anxiety as an adult, which could easily have been more severe as a child, given her circumstances.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The arrival of Russia's Red Army in Germany resulted in massive reprisals against the civilian population. Many women were raped by Russian soldiers. There is anecdotal evidence of women disguising themselves as boys or men in Berlin during this time.
> 
> * * *
> 
> As the war drew to an end, orphaned children roamed Germany and other countries in eastern Europe. That continued for years. The number of orphans and the death toll among those children is simply unknown. Some had been evacuated from their homes earlier in the war, and had no home or family to return to. Others did have relatives seeking them, but reunification was unlikely in the chaos. The Red Cross didn't start tracking services in Germany until October 1945. 
> 
> Anyone living in Germany after the war--not just orphans--would have experienced chronic hunger, lack of medical care, and a breakdown of infrastructure. People died of easily-treated illnesses and starved to death for years after the war ended.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Oktoberfest began in Bavaria in the early 1800s, with Munich as the traditional center. Both world wars resulted in cancellation of the festivities; after World War II it resumed in 1946 as "Autumn Fest" and didn't get the other name back until 1949. 
> 
> 1949 also marked the first time Oktoberfest was celebrated in Berlin.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Even with the trauma I included, I made choices for young Gaby that are much softer than what she might have experienced. She could have spent months living on the streets, and years in an orphanage.


	4. Dance, Ballerina, Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relatives lost and found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for Gaby's birthday! September 13, 1938.
> 
> Frau Lehrerin basically means "Mrs. Teacher." Ami was a common way to refer to an American soldier, and Tommy for a British soldier.
> 
> Character tags updated.

**East Berlin, 21 September 1948**  
She's still changing into her ballet shoes when Elke taps her on the shoulder. "Frau Lehrerin wants you to come see her." Gaby pauses, holding on to both ribbons in her left hand. From the way Elke is bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, she has something else to say. 

Best to wait it out, then. Elke likes the power that knowledge gives her, but she can't stand being ignored for long. Gaby takes her time knotting the ribbons together and tucking the knot underneath, behind her anklebone. 

"There's someone with her in her office," blurts Elke, breathless. "A man in a suit. I've never seen him before."

Gaby gives a little hum of acknowledgment at Elke's news. An unknown man in a suit--that doesn't sound good. She takes a deep breath and walks to Frau Lehrerin's office, noticing what the eyes of a stranger would see: the damaged studio filled with rubble they cleared from the hallway, bullet holes making a kaleidoscope of broken mirror along the far wall. 

Frau Lehrerin's office door is open, and she gestures for Gaby to enter. “Ah, Gavriela." Her pale eyebrows pinch together. "You know this man?"

It takes her a moment: light brown hair, medium brown suit, an ordinary face. Then the words tumble out in surprise: "Uncle Rudi." It's a shock, seeing him in this place. 

He radiates satisfaction, as if she's a puppy successfully performing its first trick. Turning to Frau Lehrerin, he says, "Gaby's parents were like family to me. I've known her since she was a baby." 

Gaby understands that she needs to play along with whatever game her uncle is using. "We've missed you," she says, and leans forward to kiss his cheek. 

Frau Lehrerin's frown relaxes into a neutral expression. "Gavi is good student," she tells him. "Very diligent." Gaby enjoys the uncharacteristic praise while still hating the way her teacher's Russian accent smothers the German words. It's a constant, the hated accent always present as she pushes their bodies into the lines she wants to see.

At least it's just Frau Lehrerin, though; Gaby has decided that she will never choose to let a Russian man touch her.

"Would you mind if we take a moment to catch up in your office?" Rudi asks. It's both question and order, and Frau Lehrerin reluctantly acquiesces, leaving the door open as she departs. 

"Liebling," says Uncle Rudi; he stands and briefly hugs her. 

Through the doorway Gaby and Uncle Rudi watch Frau Lehrerin order the other girls to their places, her back forming an elegant straight line. 

"Do you remember English?" Uncle Rudi asks her in that language. 

"Yes," says Gaby. The Schmidts don't speak English, but after Gaby started speaking to men again, Marta used to take her across town to negotiate with the Tommies and Amis when Marta had something to trade. That was before the English speakers left Berlin, and before the blockade started.

"I don't want anyone to overhear," says Uncle Rudi, and then he hands her a small rectangular card with the name _Rudolph von Beck_ printed on one side and a handwritten Berlin post office box address on the back. 

"I found it expedient to do a name change. Hopefully it's temporary." Gaby doesn't know the word expedient in English but she doesn't ask the meaning. "This way we have a safe way for you to write to me." 

Gaby nods jerkily, like a marionette on a string. She remembers being so afraid of him when she was small, but this man--he's plain. He's unimposing.

"I've been working to locate you for some time now," he says. He methodically lists the steps he took to find her. Gaby listens to him talk and weighs his words for truthfulness, evaluates what she can remember with what she can see now. His skin is tanned, and if he lost weight after the war, it doesn't show anymore. 

Marta registered Gaby's information with the Red Cross almost three years ago, but Gaby didn't tell Marta about Uncle Rudi. Yet here he is. 

Next Uncle Rudi tells her about her own foster parents. "Not very well-bred, are they?" he muses. "A mechanic and a part-time peddler and bread maker." Rudi takes something out of the briefcase that's perched on his lap and places it on the corner of Frau Lehrerin's desk--a tea bag, she thinks. She hasn't seen tea in bags since Coburg, where Granny Helen would drank British tea. 

"I wanted to see if I could get you a better class of foster parents, but these Soviet officials are determined to keep the daughter of aristocrats in the care of their dear working class. And communists at that," he finishes with a twist of his lips. 

From what Gaby has seen, Marta's devotion to Communism is as changeable as her moods, but perhaps that had been a factor in allowing her to stay with the Schmidts rather than go to the orphanage. Much to Gaby's relief. 

Uncle Rudi is looking at her, expecting some kind of response. Praise for his hard work in finding her? Agreement about the unworthiness of her foster parents? 

Gaby doesn't care to play guessing games with him. "Oskar and Marta work hard to keep us safe." As good a job as anyone could have done during these last few years. She's spent plenty of nights cold and hungry, and the blockade is making things worse again, but everyone else under the Schmidts' roof is feeling the same. _Unity in suffering,_ thinks Gaby. It sounded like a Communist slogan, something one of her Russian-authorized schoolteachers might say. 

Her dance class, too: they dance and starve together, even with the extra food they sometimes receive, _for the honor of representing the people._

"Well. I suppose they have some use, then." He smiles, calmly superior in his assessment.

Gaby changes the subject to a question that she's wondered about since she could think past her desperate ache for her mother and father. "Is Aunt Karoline alive? And the children?" Gaby remembers Karoline's baby girl, born while they were still in Coburg, and later here in Berlin Mutti told her that Karoline had another baby. 

"Karoline has been working as a Trümmerfrau in Würzburg. Her husband died last year in France, clearing land mines, but--" Uncle Rudi shrugs his shoulders, "She could have done better anyway." 

He writes Aunt Karoline's address on a slip of paper when Gaby requests it, then his hands return to the tea bag, carefully dissecting the pieces and letting dried leaves scatter onto the corner of the desk. Small fragments drift to the floor. 

He's watching them fall when he asks her, "Have you heard anything from your father?" 

She shivers at the question, unable to hide the movement before it happens. Vater disappeared before Mutti and she knew Mutti could never come back. The pieces of that are still buried deep, unseen fragments waiting to surface, but she knows. In the wake of that certainty about Mutti, Gaby never questioned Vater's absence. "I didn't know there was anything to hear," she mumbles. "I thought he was dead, too." 

Uncle Rudi clicks his tongue. "Your father," he says, pronouncing his words deliberately, lips pursed, "went to the Americans at the end of the war."

She stares at him, shocked, not understanding all of the English words Rudi says because of that. Something about agreements and surveillance, and working for the Amis now. 

Gaby forces herself to take a deep breath. It's only been a few months since dance classes began, but Gaby has already learned this: breathing, feeling the strength of the floor under her feet. 

Her fingertips tingle; she releases the fists she was clenching and focuses her gaze on Uncle Rudi's hands. With his right hand, he brushes the loose tea leaves into his cupped fingers, then drops them into the trash can. "I believe your mother and father disagreed on what to do towards the end. Udo wanted to leave, but Friederike did not." 

How long has it been since she's heard their names from someone who actually knew her parents? She wonders for a moment and then her thoughts stutter back to this: her father is alive. Her father is alive and he left. He left Mutti and he left her and--what does this mean?

Does Marta know? And Oskar? What about the adoption papers? 

Uncle Rudi found her and she hadn't wanted that, so her father hasn't looked for her, he _hasn't looked for her_ , because if he had, he would have found her. 

It's too much to think about. Gaby shuts that compartment tightly in her mind. 

Uncle Rudi switches back to German. "I brought a gift." He pulls a box from his briefcase. "I believe it was your birthday last week. Ten years old now?" 

Gaby nods in confirmation and takes the box from his hands. It's written in a language she doesn't recognize, but the smell is sweet and familiar. Chocolates: not the waxy kind the Amis used to give away--she ate them anyway--but _good_ chocolates. 

"Something that you can keep for yourself and not have to share with anyone," he says; it reminds her of her Granny Helen's boxes of chocolates. His grandmother. Gaby doesn't know how he got the candies through the blockade. Next he places the box of tea bags on Frau Lehrerin's desk, presumably for her. Would her Russian teacher like tea leaves in bags? Probably not; it isn't proper Russian tea. 

Maybe her younger self was afraid of Uncle Rudi for no reason, but Gaby understands now why Mutti told her not to let him see that she was afraid, rather than not to **be** afraid. This man finds the lost, crosses borders, changes names; he shakes the foundation of her life here with one question. 

Uncle Rudi says his goodbyes, says in passing not to mention his visit, and she is pliant, pleasant; a loving niece bidding farewell to a long-missed family member.

* * *

Peter is waiting for her in the lobby after practice is finished. 

She's old enough to walk to the garage alone. Even with the blockade, the city isn't like it was just after the war ended. Peter doesn't meet her every time she has dance lessons, just now and then. Gaby doesn't tell him so, but she likes it. It's nice, walking together before he works with Oskar and she does her homework in the garage office. 

Maybe not today, though. Her thoughts threaten to tumble out in a spill of words, so she keeps her mouth closed. Gaby hands him her book bag and places her dance bag on her shoulder, careful to keep the chocolates from bumping against her hip. 

They're halfway down the block when Peter asks, "So was your dance teacher too tough on you today?"

"Actually, she gave me a compliment. She said I was _good student_." Gaby tries to imitate her teacher's accent as she repeats the words. 

"I guess she's a fan of watching spiders dance," he says. 

She bumps his elbow with hers in punishment. "Ha ha." Him and his spider nicknames. Gaby thinks he looks more like a spider than she does. He's fifteen years old and there's still not enough to eat some days; his elbow pokes her side more sharply than she can do to him. 

"Dance, little spider, dance," Peter croons in English, trying to sound like Bing Crosby singing that song about the ballerina. Gaby scowls and thinks about tackling him here, but that would get both of them hurt, or in trouble. It will have to wait until they're at home.

The two of them walk past blocks filled with rubble, other blocks filled with apartments and life; some blocks have an off-kilter mixture of both. 

Uncle Rudi's visit has left her feeling off-balance. What did he see as he traveled through the city? She doesn't think he would appreciate the determination of the people who still live here. 

He's the key, she thinks: influence, food, crossing borders... her father. Her certainty that Vater could have found her begins to fade, as does the unsettling feeling from Rudi's revelations. He didn't actually say anything scary, didn't try to intimidate her. He took the time to find her here, and brought her a good gift. (Food is always a good gift.) 

Peter tells her about his science class, and what Ingrid said during lunch. He won't actually say that he likes Ingrid, but Gaby hears her name a lot. 

The conversation fades again without Gaby holding up her end of it. It's okay, though. Peter at fifteen knows how to be silent sometimes, unlike Peter at twelve. 

Gaby takes a deep breath and asks him, "Have you ever been afraid of something for no reason?" 

He doesn't answer her right away, but finally he asks "Like when you were scared to talk to Vati at first?" He bumps her with his shoulder. It's to tease her, she knows, but also a reminder that she's his sister now, whether it's official or not. 

Oskar was the first adult man she finally talked to. 

"You didn't answer the question," Gaby says. "Have you ever been scared without knowing the reason why?" 

"There's always a reason. Even if I don't know the reason." Peter glances down at her, a warm smile on his face. "Sometimes it's a silly reason, but people are often silly." He sounds like a wise philosopher instead of a fifteen-year-old boy, but Gaby doesn't laugh at him. 

They're almost to the garage when Peter says, "I used to be scared of thunder when I was really little, but that went away during the war." 

Gaby thinks about little Peter from the photos, with his shock of blond hair. She imagines the fear he must have felt during those first bombing raids. She bumps his shoulder with hers, like he did to her earlier. 

"Race you the rest of the way there!" Peter announces, already sprinting ahead of her. 

Gaby shrieks about cheating and injustice as they gallop down the street. She tries whacking his leg with her ballet bag but he's too far ahead. 

As soon as they arrive at the garage, Peter slows to a regular walk, and she stops yelling. No shouting or running or wrestling allowed here; it's serious business. Peter couldn't go near the cars until he was thirteen. Now he's allowed to work on them with supervision. 

Gaby goes to Vati's office and pulls her homework out of the book bag Peter dropped there for here. The chocolates stay hidden at the bottom of her ballet bag. She doesn't know what, or if, she will tell Oskar and Marta. Talking about Uncle Rudi feels like--she doesn't know what. Like letting a monster out of the wardrobe, only monsters aren't real.

* * *

She can't sleep. It's quiet enough; Peter has the bedroom that the Müller sisters used to share, before they left. Her corner of the living room has curtains that Vati--that Oskar rigged up across the ceiling, make it her personal space. (Even with her bargaining skills, Marta hasn't yet succeeded at getting a bigger apartment for the family.)

What if Uncle Rudi succeeded at moving her to a family that met his aristocratic preferences? What if he decided to take her himself?

What if her Vater thought she was dead, too, and that's why he didn't send for her? What if the Americans have him in a prison camp, like the men here who served in the military? Like Aunt Karoline's husband, who was probably forced to clear those land mines in France--

Even with his crutches, Oskar doesn't make much noise moving around when he doesn't want to. The familiar sound of the couch settling under his weight is what lets her know that he's awake. She pokes her head through the curtains. 

"Did I wake you?" he asks, voice quiet in the dark. She shakes her head no, and he pats the seat next to him. Gaby scoots across the room, climbs onto the couch, and leans against his side. Oskar pulls away for a moment, using his hands to pull his bad leg onto the low table in front of the couch, and then settles her against his side again. 

She feels selfishly glad that he has a bad foot and couldn't be a soldier. How would Marta have survived his absence during the war? What if he'd died during the fighting? Then after, with the prison camps--some of her friends' fathers are still in the camps. Gerda's father died in a camp, and Rita's too. 

"Why couldn't you sleep, Kleine?" Gaby doesn't mind it when he calls her that; he's so much taller than her. His bones poke as she leans against him. Gaby has seen the pictures from before the war, when Oskar was round as well as tall. 

"Something strange happened today at dance class." 

He makes a rumbling noise, waiting for her to continue. 

"Someone my parents used to know found me. He gave me my Aunt Karoline's address." 

"Where is she?"

"In Würzburg. Her husband died in France. She's working as a Trümmerfrau." Gaby can't picture her elegant Aunt Karoline clearing away rubble, but she doesn't think Uncle Rudi would make a mistake about that. 

"You should write to her," Oskar tells her. 

She nods, her hair sliding against his arm as she does.

"Do you--would you want to go live with her? She's part of your family." 

She considers that just for a moment, because it didn't occur to her earlier. "No. Aunt Karoline has to take care of her two girls. Plus I don't even remember my cousins." That's a bit of exaggeration; she does remember when Thea was born and they were all sent into Karoline's room in Granny Helen's home to inspect and admire the baby from a distance. 

"Besides, we have rubble here, too," she adds.

Oskar huffs out a quiet laugh and squeezes her arm. 

"There's something else," Gaby says. "My--Herr von Beck didn't want me to tell anyone he visited." What she leaves out is that he's her uncle. That he's using a different name. That he said her father is alive and probably in America. 

Oskar doesn't reply at first. Finally he says, "Be careful of adults who want children to keep their secrets, Gaby." 

She nods again. The weight of the other secrets presses against her, but not as heavily now. Oskar keeps his arm around her; it's a comforting warmth. A weight she can bear, his thin arm around her. 

"Also, if you feel scared--of anyone, not just this von Beck--you run. Maybe kick them, then run." He amends his advice one more time: "Kick them _hard_ \--you know where--and then run."

Gaby does know where; one time she accidentally kicked Peter there when they were wrestling, and he was mad at her for days. 

She would giggle at Oskar's advice, but she knows he's serious. 

She wakes up on the couch the next morning; a familiar start to the day. Oskar can't carry her back to her bed, so he brings her blanket to her instead.

* * *

Gaby expects reprisals from her teacher for her uncle's behavior. Nothing happens. Instead their food rations expand for a few weeks, and a month later they have a bundle of new dance clothes. 

Gaby shares her own wealth as well, giving away the chocolates from Uncle Rudi. They leave a bitter taste on her tongue. 

_Be careful of adults who want children to keep their secrets._

_Try not to show Uncle Rudi you're afraid of him._

She thinks about what she's been told, and writes him a carefully affectionate thank-you note.

Gaby will take what he offers but keep herself separate. He's not here. Oskar, Marta, and Peter are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solo's comments about Udo Teller as "Hitler's favorite rocket scientist" made me think of an actual rocket scientist in the Nazi regime, Wernher Von Braun. Like Gaby's father, Von Braun's devotion to the Nazi cause was in doubt. (He was even imprisoned by the regime for a few weeks in 1944.) As Soviet troops drew closer in early 1945, Von Braun chose to surrender himself to American soldiers in May.
> 
> Von Braun did a lot of work to advance the American space program, but was still distrusted by many, as you can hear in [this 1965 song by political satirist Tom Lehrer.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjDEsGZLbio)
> 
> Another interesting tidbit about Von Braun: he was still single when he left Germany. In 1947 he was allowed to go back to Germany to get married and then returned to the US with his bride.
> 
> (It's another reason why I judge Udo Teller harshly for leaving Gaby in East Berlin. Whatever the reason for their separation, Gaby could probably have been found. Three different government agencies tracked her almost two decades after the war ended, when she probably had a different last name on paper.)
> 
> The USA and Russia had competing operations to acquire top German scientists after the war: the US with Operation Paperclip, the Soviets with Operation Osoaviakhim.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The Berlin blockade, an early crisis in the Cold War, began in late June 1948: an attempt by the USSR to take control of West Berlin by blocking land-based shipments of food and other supplies. Like many big cities, Berlin didn't grow food or have its own fuel sources sufficient for the needs of the population. Western allies chose to send the needed supplies by airplane, eventually sending thousands of tons every day. 
> 
> The airlift operation succeeded, and the ongoing blockade was a public image nightmare for the Soviets; they ended the blockade just under a year after it began.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Uncle Rudi's last name in the film is von Trulsch. Presumably that's Gaby's mother's maiden name as well, although who knows; maybe Mama Teller was a half-sibling or step-sibling. 
> 
> Including _von_ in a last name was one of the few acceptable ways to display aristocratic heritage; in 1919 the Weimar Republic did away with the privileges of noble and royal families, but titles as part of the surname were allowed. 
> 
> Given how proud he is of that aristocratic bloodline, Uncle Rudi would be reluctant to give up such a blatant sign of nobility.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Two different singers made the music charts in 1947 with a song called _Ballerina_ , and two more singers in 1948. The opening line is "Dance, ballerina, dance." (Peter swaps out _ballerina_ for _little spider_ \--they have the same number of syllables.) 
> 
> Nat King Cole also had a successful version of the song a decade later, in 1957.


End file.
